Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

Once the focus was on Salazar, the effort to find him began. It turned out that Salazar had been raised in Wichita. And some of his relatives, including his sister, were placed under surveillance. Would Salazar visit her? All they could do was wait and see. But, when the break finally came, it was more a matter of luck than skill.

There had been a burglary two doors down from what proved to be a Union safe house. And as the police went door to door looking for witnesses, they asked neighbors to provide footage from their security cameras, footage that was dumped into a police database and scanned with facial-recognition software. The computer contained wants and warrants on thousands of people, including one Gregory Salazar. Military intelligence was notified of the “hit,” and that led Victoria’s team to the safe house.

“Heads up,” Sergeant Fray said. “We have a possible.” Fray was an experienced operative and Tarvin’s replacement. He was sitting behind the steering wheel staring out through the rain-smeared glass.

Victoria leaned forward. “What have you got?”

“A car circled the block twice,” Fray answered. “And now it’s back.”

Victoria felt her pulse quicken. That’s how a pro would play it. Even though Salazar might feel reasonably safe, he’d be wary. So, rather than pull into the driveway right away, he would circle the block, looking for anything out of the ordinary. And Victoria felt confident that there was nothing about the van that would trigger his suspicions. Victoria opened her mike as the car slowed. “Cooper? Do you read me? Over.”

“Five by five.”

“He’s about to pull in. Get ready.”

“Roger that. Over.”

Cooper and two other operatives had been living in the house for five days, waiting for this moment. Victoria watched the garage door open as the car backed in. A small detail but one that was consistent with her hypothesis. Who, other than a pro, would back in? Thereby making ready to depart in a hurry.

The headlights went off as the door closed. Victoria held her breath as light appeared in the windows. The interior of the house was lousy with security cameras. Cameras that Salazar could check prior to visiting the house. What the Union operators didn’t realize was that their outgoing feed had been hijacked and replaced with a loop.

Victoria heard a burb of static, followed by Cooper’s voice. “We have him.”

Victoria felt a flood of relief. “Search him for weapons, suicide paraphernalia, and trackers. And look everywhere .”

Cooper sounded hurt. “Of course. We’re on it.”

Victoria turned to Fray. “Keep a sharp lookout. If you see anything even remotely suspicious, let me know. I’m going in.”

Corporal Hamad opened the front door for her. According to the official records, the house belonged to a woman named Deborah Lee, although Victoria figured that the safe house was actually the property of the Union government.

The interior was decorated fifties style, with sixties lamps and brightly colored plastic chairs. Salazar had been stripped and taped into one of them. He sat with his legs spread. It was a psychological ploy for the most part, a way to make him feel vulnerable, but it had practical value as well since there was the possibility that something was hidden in Salazar’s groin. A tech was running her fingers over the surface of his skin, searching for subdural implants.

“Victoria,” Salazar said conversationally. “This is a surprise. Please excuse me if I don’t get up.”

Salazar was frightened. Victoria could see it in his eyes. She was about to reply when the tech beat her to it. “Hmm… What’s this? An implant, if I’m not mistaken. It’s high up on the inside surface of his left thigh.”

“Cut it out,” Victoria ordered. “Let’s see what we have.”

Salazar winced, and blood dripped onto the white rug as the tech made the necessary incision. “Here we go,” the tech said, as she applied pressure to both sides of the cut.

Victoria watched with interest as a bloody blob popped out and knew that it was either a suicide capsule or a distress beacon. The kind Salazar could activate by squeezing it. But Salazar hadn’t had an opportunity to do so, which meant he was on his own. “Good work,” she said. “Keep looking. There could be a backup.”

The search continued for another five minutes but with no success. “Patch him up,” Victoria ordered, “and get him dressed. We’re leaving.”

It took half an hour to transfer Salazar to a Confederate safe house. Three days of interrogation followed. Who did he work for? Who did he work with? And what operations were currently under way? On and on it went but with only limited success. First, because Salazar was one tough cookie. Second, because he answered most of their questions with lies… And third, because the Union Underground was highly compartmentalized. Odds were that Salazar didn’t know who he was working for, and the only operations Salazar had knowledge of were his own.

Still, there were bits and pieces that, when combined with other intelligence, might add up to something. Now, as the van drove out into the countryside, Salazar was passed out in his seat. Or was he? It didn’t matter. The shackles on his wrists and ankles would prevent a surprise attack.

The van cleared the suburbs, passed between green fields, and crossed a bridge. A graveled road led up onto the summit of a hill topped with a cell-phone tower and a scattering of beer cans. A well-known spot, then, a place where the locals could party.

The persistent cloud cover prevented the air from being warm—but it was a pleasant day by postimpact standards. Cooper got out of the van first. He was wearing a black hood and armed with a suppressed assault rifle. The agent brought the weapon up and fired a burst at the cell tower’s security camera. Maybe the phone company would notify the police, and maybe they wouldn’t. Victoria didn’t care. They’d be gone by the time someone arrived to investigate.

Victoria got out of the van and made her way over to the east side of the hill. A farmhouse was visible below, and a party was under way. Two dozen adults and four children could be seen. They looked like ants viewed from above.

Victoria sensed movement and turned to find that Salazar had arrived. His face was bruised, one eye was swollen shut, and his upper lip was swollen. Torture doesn’t work. That’s what the experts claimed, but Victoria wasn’t so sure. So the beatings had been part of the overall mix, along with sleep deprivation and loud music.

Salazar’s head was hanging low, so Victoria forced it up. “Look downhill, turd blossom… Do you recognize the house?”

“It’s my sister’s house,” Salazar said thickly.

“Very good,” Victoria said. “And the people? Who are they?”

Salazar frowned, winced, and swallowed. “My family.”

“That’s right… We tapped your sister’s phone. Today is your niece’s birthday.”

A look of horror appeared on Salazar’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would. You killed my family… My military family. So I’m going to kill yours. Fair is fair. Look up into the sky. See the drone? It’s armed with a Hellfire missile.”

“No, please,” Salazar said desperately. “Don’t do it!”

“Too late,” Victoria said, as the missile struck. A loud boom was heard as the house was transformed into a ball of yellow-orange fire. Pieces of debris soared high into the air, a car performed a backflip, and black smoke billowed up to stain the sky.

Salazar attacked her then… or tried to. But Cooper was ready and kicked the agent behind a knee. Salazar fell into a sobbing heap.